I saw this on Maja’s blog and I like it; I empathise with it, it makes me smile. It reads, “I mostly think about sex and killing myself”. I just like the extremism of the statement. The desire to do the most life affirming thing possible and the most life negating thing possible, it’s so deliciously freudian: Sex and death. It’s one of those things in life that make me stop and wonder who wrote it, what their life is like, how they see the world, what their hopes and dreams are, what terrifies them; if they have big tits or not. I want to know in what spirit they wrote it, were they smiling, did they mean it, what did they mean by it? I find it really thought provoking.
If I had my way right now I’d be snuggled up to S, her chin resting on my head, my ear pressed against her so I can hear her heart beat and feel her breathing and her warmth.
I feel so quiet. I could just close my eyes and sit here listening to my own breathing and there would be silence apart from that.
I’m so bipolar: I live at extremes: part of me wants to live in silence in the wilderness and the other part wants raucous and wild adventures. It wants to fuck everything in sight, sack cities, write the most manic of novels railing against all of polite society and social convention and be the enfant terrible just to revel in the freedom of doing it. Then the other part imagines just having a cup of tea and looking out across the pine forest to the snow capped mountains and maybe putting another log on the fire. There’s no happy medium, there’s no natural point at which I come to rest.
So I started reading Sexus and I’m reminded that my problem with writing is that I try and be a writer, rather than just writing. This being the case I have decided to spend one hour a day just writing my novel, with one day off a week, until it’s finished.
Also there’s this line where he meets a woman and she tells him that his life is a mess because he’s never attempted a project worthy of him and so he gets bored and fails. Which is what S was telling me last week. There’s one of those coincidences which make me doubt the idea of coincidences again.
Other than that I’m so bored, in existential sense. I could go out and I’m toying with it right now. N might be at the club seeing as it’s the bank holiday and all sorts of interesting things could happen. Truth be told I’m not all that interested, I find that I have a lack of motivation. Fine I could go: I went there a couple of weeks back and was greeted with huge enthusiasm by people I don’t even really know, which was nice, but to be honest it’s a bit……thing is about my social life over the past eight months is that I’ve acknowledged that I find standing or sitting around talking inane crap boring. It’s not even a “oh I’m getting old and it’s too much for me”. It’s “I’ve been doing this long enough to want something more exciting” and it all just seems a bit sedate to me and it makes me feel a bit lonely truth be told.
This a recurring thing in my life. I have this sense that the important thing is to do things and create memories and all there seems to be is this routine of getting drunk and chatting shit. Now, yeah, Gman and I knocked back three bottles of wine and a ton of brandy and chatted shit, Jboy and I drink and chat shit but it’s the kind of sorting life out and putting things in perspective kind of shit. Not the inane “what did we even talk about last night?” kind of shit.
I find that the older I get the more I find the strength to do things my way and if things aren’t how they want I do something about it.
You know what? I’m going to have a whisky and think on it.
Cuz on the other hand I don’t feel like staying in and reading and I can always come back if it’s shit. Maybe N will be there and maybe interesting things will happen.
The other thing about this year is how much of it has been dominated by hypomania/mania; it’s like drugs, everything becomes boring after it and there’s this thing of finding the lack of control terrifying but also the whole thing exhilarating. I think it’s because I’ve been piling stress and pressure on myself, finally doing a big enough project and the way my body responds to this is by going into hypomania/mania, which makes me erratic and unpredictable but also lets me get stuff done.
Nothing I ever do, or anything I ever experience, really impacts me; I tend to be quite indifferent to most things until I sit down and think about them and the last couple of days I’ve kinda been in awe of myself. I’m getting that feeling that I got when I first started Aikido and I was flying up the ranks; that feeling of being able to achieve anything of being able to do anything. That need to get rid of dead weight and go faster.
S and C are good at making me see things properly. C has a way of putting things that makes me realise that I’ve achieved something and S just takes the piss out of me for not seeing it.
Fuck it, going out.
All I will say about today’s sexual encounter is this: What is it with women who think that wearing Minnie the Mouse underwear is anything but just a little tiny bit off putting?
I remember when I was nine or ten and we’d visit my mum’s friend on a wednesday night. For me that was the best night of the week because The Fresh Prince of Bel Air would be on followed by Star Trek: The Next Generation and to a nine year old ST:TNG was massively thought provoking. It’s the kind of stuff you imagine would be taught in school, genuine moral dilemmas to which there are no perfect solutions, explorations of the human soul; basically the whole world of philosophy but presented in a way that a child can engage with.
I remember Thursday mornings were always a vibrant time as the whole gang would sit and discuss who we thought was right or what we would have done and the teacher would be trying to teach us something dull like the basic structure of the solar system for the fifth time. We’d be there railing against one another, totally unaware that one side would be arguing for consequentialist ethics and the other side for deontological ethics; that understanding came later.
This is the bizarre thing about Star Trek : It asks bigger questions than any other TV show and so often it does that thing common to Greek drama: it leaves the audience to decide right from wrong. Yes, you can switch off the TV, not give it much thought and enjoy it as a bit of entertainment but then if you’re a fan of the show you find yourself almost unconsciously referencing it every time a moral dilemma pops up in the media.
As if I just used the phrase “this isn’t my first rodeo”. I got in the taxi home and laughed at myself all the way back.
In fairness it was used in total sincerity. So many women think they can tell me what I mean and I smile and I think “Okay, maybe you can tell other men what they feel, but not me, What I say is what I mean.”. *hugs you*
And now I’m heading out again for more drinking!
Ugh, what a day. I was meant to meet Gman for morning coffee, but Gman is even worse at time keeping than I am, I suspect there are astrological reasons for this seeing as there’s only a couple of hours between us and we were born in the same hospital. So that became brunch, which became lunch, which became cancelled when he needed to get his car fixed. I’ve done nothing all day, I keep getting bouts of anxiety and occasional shortness of breath like a mini panic attack which happens when I’m tired and I am tired and also I’m lazy.
Apparently though I am fit to be seen in polite company since one has been invited around for din dins. One shall have to raid the peasant shop for wine.